


Let it Burn

by hughley (blahblahwahwah)



Category: Station 19 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-17 05:19:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16510106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahblahwahwah/pseuds/hughley
Summary: Because, of Victoria were prudent – she wouldn’t be doing this right now.2x05, 2x07





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys. I'm so happy to have another OTP. I wish they had shown how Ripley and Hughes kinda got into bed together. I wanted more smooching.

Prudence.

It’s not her strongest quality.

If Victoria were prudent – she wouldn’t have been in denial over her fear of fire as long as she was. If she were prudent – she wouldn’t have bitten poor Warren’s head off for leaving Travis out on that staircase the night of the sky-scraper fire. If Victoria were prudent – she wouldn’t have shut Travis out only to blow up at him with their new Captain around to witness her outburst.

If Victoria were prudent – she wouldn’t have _yelled_ at the Fire Chief. _Twice_.  

Because, you don’t yell at your boss.

 _Especially_ , your boss’s boss’ boss.

 

Not that she would ever attempt to justify her impulsive behaviour, but if one were to rise to her defence, one ought to point out that Ripley isn’t a very boss _-y_ boss.

He doesn’t project stern, uptight vibes like Frankel or throw that ruthless dictatorial aura like Sullivan does. He doesn’t even demand respect upfront like Pruitt. He isn’t assertive and authoritative like Andy. He isn’t even overconfident, like Gibson. 

He’s way too pleasant. He’s soft-spoken, calm, polite and listens more than he talks. And – let’s face it...

He’s way, _way_ too pretty to be anyone’s boss. (What? Vic has eyes. And he has _that_ face.)

So maybe she forgets who she is around him. She forgets who _he_ is.

She forgets prudence.

Because, _if_   Victoria were prudent – she wouldn’t be doing _this_ right now. 

She wouldn’t be _doing_ her boss’s boss’ boss right now _._

 

 

A small gurgle of laughter escapes her at the thought. It catches his attention but he doesn’t seem wary or offended. If anything, his parted lips purse in a small curve and dimples appear at the corners of his smooth lips. It’s almost - like, he finds pleasure in her laughter. His fingers tighten over her ass and his hips rock up faster and Victoria’s giggles are reduced to short bursting gaps. She drops forward, scrabbling at his pecs for support. She digs her knees by his sides into the mattress and moans.

She’s close and she knows it.

She manages a glance at his face – and through her hazy vision – she’s surprised to see a smug, self-assured, expectant smirk on his face. He lifts himself up – just a little bit and his hips angling ever so slightly but so efficiently that she can feel the head – right, where she likes it. 

(He knows it too.) 

A hiss escapes her teeth and her eyes squeeze shut. Just as that wave crests – flaring from her lower belly upwards, she thinks - a little foolishly, that it’s the first time she’s seen such cockiness on his face.  He’s usually a sweet, humble, not-arrogant, not bossy guy.

That cockiness may be well deserved, she would think later. The man had her spiraling into her fourth orgasm within seconds.

 

* 

She isn’t quite sure how they got here.

(Later, when she journals about it – she’ll probably write about how she _ought_ to have hit the emergency brakes on the whole thing before it started.)

If anyone had told Victoria Hughes at the start of shift that she wound end the day having sex with the Fire Chief, she’d laugh at them till her insides hurt.

One minute, he’s dropping her off at her apartment and the next moment she’s feeling the _spice_ all over. (She was not flirting, but she was not _not_ -flirting with him, either – and lord, help her, there was way too much _spice_ to ignore). One minute he's chuckling softly at her unintentionally funny remark on how she thought he would be more of a ‘blazer-guy’ and rather than a ‘sweater-guy’, and the next moment he's sighing at her with that intense – _fond_ gaze.

She’s not sure who leaned across gearbox into whose personal space. She remembers the slight hesitation on his part and a consenting nod on hers – _before_ her mouth crushed against his. After that, all she remembers is his mouth. His very soft – very talented – very ‘spicy’ mouth.

Vic doesn’t remember if she invited him up or if he asked. She was damned happy that they managed to stumble into her apartment _before_ peeling each other’s clothes off because she was so unbelievably horny that she was ripping at his tie right there in his car.

The fact that it was his uniform wasn’t lost to her. It excited her more than it deterred her. When her fingers brushed against the engraved pins before drifting to the the buckle of his belt, she squeezed her thighs in wicked anticipation. She slipped her palm into his pants and wrapped her fingers around him. He gasped and broke the kiss. Victoria met his eyes – his pupils wide with lust, the icy blue of his irises looked like the sky at midnight.

She wet her lips, a realization sinking in - she was holding her boss’s…boss’s… _boss’s_ cock in her hands. It made her feel more alive and powerful than she had ever felt.

The desperation on his face hardened and suddenly, she wasn’t in charge anymore. and before she knew it she was being pushed up against the wall.

She was pleasantly surprised that he went for her hair first. With both hands. His long fingers, gently but frantically, pulling out the pins that had her thick hair tightly coiled into place, tossing them away. She unwittingly shook her head as she was habituated to, but, his gentle grip on her head stopped her. He threaded his fingers through her curls to set them free, the weight released off her scalp when her hair sprung open. Victoria was taken aback by look of affectionate admiration when his eyes scanned her head and her face.

His fingers trailed over her body, to the hem of her t-shirt. Captivated by his eyes, she lifted her arms obediently, letting him pull her t-shirt over her head. He dipped his face to capture her mouth in a soft kiss. He let her peel off his shirt and his vest. She ran her fingers over his shoulders – smiling against his mouth when her fingers traced the cuts of his muscles.

It’s no secret the Chief looks younger than he is. Like, most firefighters are tall and fit and all – but Ripley’s kinda like – a skinny Thor.  His muscles are as chiseled and defined as his jawline and he even has those blue ( _so friggin’ blue!_ ) eyes and that deep sexy voice to match. (She totally believes the rumor that he was September in the Firefighter's Calendar of Oh-Five).

Her admiration of his body was waylaid when he dragged his short beard over her neck. The stubble evoking a raw and electrifying sensation in her. The sounds she made seemed to goad him, he  pressed himself against her roughly. She felt that hard tent in his half-opened pants push against her stomach. She tipped her hips forward and ground against it. He made a small noise as he kissed the crook of her neck. She reached for him, pushing his pants down – her fingers grasping his hot, throbbing length.

Suddenly, his arms sprang into action. Vic found her wrists pinned against the wall over her head, both locked by one very dexterous hand. How he managed to shed his pants and help her out of hers with his one free hand would be a mystery to revisit later (multiple times, hopefully). She shivered when he traced a finger over the seam of her folds, mouthing over her the cup of her bra at the same time.  Her bra came free and was tossed away. His eyes fluttered shut when he closed his mouth over a nipple. She whimpered in delight, gasping louder as he sucked loudly at her breasts while teasing between her folds, releasing each nipple with an obscene pop every time. The wetness doubled between her thighs, she writhed against him and struggling to free herself from the hold he had on her wrists. His fingers tightened subtly every time it seemed as though she could slither out of his one-handed shackle. 

“Chi - ” She started to plead. He cut her off with an abrupt but sloppy kiss on the mouth.  “Lucas.” He mumbled.

“Lucas.” She whined and wiggled her hands free. His teeth grazed against the column of her neck, and his rough gasp felt like stereo in her ear when she palmed his cock.  His hips lurched towards her. She heard a murmur of an expletive when she pumped him, smearing his wetness over his length. 

It occurred to her how quiet he is. How quiet, he always is.

He was so hard, and so ready – she didn’t expect more than a little fingering before he was ready to slip into her.  Instead, he bit kisses down her front, sliding his hands down her body as his face descended. It wasn’t before long that her neck was bent down, staring at him while struggling to breathe. He was on his knees, looking up at her, gently mouthing over her lower belly, his bearded chin just above her mound. He wrapped a hand around her knee and gently nudged her thigh apart, opening her wide. She was soaking wet,  her own scent wafted up her nose

She mutely let him drape her knee over his shoulder unable to form words as her mind raced.   _That -That-_ That _\- That's the Fire Chief, right there._ She thought, head and heart pounding at once. _And_ he _is going to go down...on me_.

He held her gaze the entire time. Maybe the panic showed on her face, because his forehead wrinkled and concern flashed on his face. A callused palm ran up her thigh, over the curve of her ass before he gently traced her folds again.

“What?” He spoke, for the first time since this all started. His voice was thick and low. A sly smirk appeared over his lips (– sexy, _sexy_  , sexylips, she thought). His eyes were playful. “I didn’t think you’d invite me up here and not put me to work.”

Victoria blinked for a second. Then she burst into laughter.

His mouth spread wide in a fond grin.

She shrugged feeling impish and blushing at the same time. “Yeah, it's like I said...y - you – you gotta work for your cake.”   

Her mouth parted with anticipation as he pressed a gentle kiss – between her thighs - _there_. She could feel his stubble pricking against her sensitive skin. Her lower body jerked involuntarily, hips arching towards his mouth. She grabbed his head, fingers clamping over short dull-golden tufts. 

He looked up to meet her hungry gaze. His face was pale and unsmiling, there was a dark expression in his eyes. It was like he had lost control. 

“Like I said, Hughes…” He whispered roughly using his fingers to widen her, before reaching forward and running his hot wet tongue along her slit.  She moaned loud, arching her head back into the wall, breathing heavily. She felt his muffled voice vibrating against her clit. “…Happy to.”

 

 

\---->


	2. Chapter 2

She couldn’t breathe.

Victoria was no stranger to not breathing. More than two years of active firefighting, repeated exposure to fire, smoke, gases, the stress of critical situations - dealing with that tension in her chest was not unfamiliar. Lack of oxygen wasn’t the _problem_ here. The _problem_ was - she didn’t really care for breathing at that moment. 

Breathing was – too much, of an effort. It required - focus. She didn’t want to focus on her breathing. Not when _other_ amazing focus-worthy _things_ were _happening_ elsewhere.

(Of course, if - she didn’t breathe, she might pass out. If - she passed out, she would miss the _things._ Things, she did not want to miss. Sexyasfuck-things. That were _hap-pen-ing._ Down there. Everywhere.)

Victoria gasped, swallowing in as much air as she could in as little time as she could afford as a distraction. Ripley had two fingers inside her pumping slowly, and his tongue swirling around her clit. She tried to buck her hips faster to speed things along, but he clapped a palm over her ass – _again_.  

(He kept doing that a lot: touching her ass, when she tried to move faster.

His touch was not all that different from his voice or his way of speaking; soft but certain, subtle but definitive. A caress, a little pat, a soft grasp - nothing too harsh. Just, the right amount of touch, effective to pace her movements. 

Not that she was complaining but - like, she just wanted to come, and he just kept stalling her with that action. It was annoying and so, _so_ hot at the same time.)

Her core muscles had pretty much turned to jelly. The flamingo-pose was no good anymore. The leg she was propped up on was trembling. The knee dangling over his shoulder was _not_ to be moved, because – (well, it was just not to be moved, okay?)

She plinthed her shoulders back and bridged her hips for support. With nothing to hold on to but air or flat drywall, she grabbed the back of Ripley’s head, interlocking her fingers between his surprisingly silky hair in an attempt to balance out the general wonkiness in her body.

That was the idea – at least.

Except…balance, as it turned out seemed irrelevant when his face – his _mouth_ \- got shoved up - deeper. The pressure of his tongue on her clit heightened and his fingers moved faster. She felt his groan against her – the sound vibrating right through her insides. She damned-nearly growled when that thrill in her cunt intensified.

“Lucas.” She pleaded softly, heat spread over her belly and her spine quivered. She wobbled and sank a little.

He hastily pulled out his fingers. A rush of coolness filled her cunt and it clenched as though protesting the emptiness. She would have voiced a complaint too (if she could find her voice), except, he was already reaching for the back of her unsteady knee and hitching it over his other shoulder, boosting her against wall. She moaned, wiggled her body loose, letting him adjust the back of her thighs over his shoulders.

(It was sweet, how considerate he was.) She pried her heavy eyes open, thinking to tell him as much. (Because, it is not polite, to not pay a compliment, to someone who’s about to make you very, _very_ happy. She wasn’t sure if she could get the words out coherently, but she had to try, right?) She looked down, _intending_ to -

 “ _Fuck_!”  She gasped.

  _That view._

Him, on his knees, with his face crammed between the apex of her thighs and steadying her _entire_ weight on his shoulders without flinching as though she weighed nothing. Only his forehead, his eyes and the bridge of his nose were visible over the landscape of her middle. But, the way his eyes were drawn shut and his eyebrows were lifted in concentration. It looked like…  

…it looked like he was truly enjoying what he was doing to her.

Her hips reacted like they had a mind of their own, and he did that damned ass-grab again, frustrating her actions.

“Lucas.” She whined.

His eyes fluttered open and met hers, his pupils were jacked – and the intensity in them was savage.

_That._

It just, _just_ – drove her wild.

She hissed, slamming her head back and gaping up at the ceiling, wheezing for air, slapping her thighs together, boxing his ears in. She unwittingly tugged at the tufts of his hair in her grasp. He groaned loudly – and yeah, she reckoned it probably hurt - but she couldn’t bring herself to be too worried about scalping him. Not when his prickly lips closed over her swollen clit.

“Lucas!” She begged, jerking her lower body down rhythmically

He caught her thighs tightly – a little aggressive for how gentle he’s been all the while - splitting her as wide, and shook his head from side to side.  

“Lucas!” She whispered, unable to hold her thoughts in her brain, digging her fingernails into his scalp. “Lucas, I’m  -!”

 _I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come all over his face! The Fire Chief’s face. My…My…_ (Her cunt throbbed, each pulse weirdly in sync with her thoughts.)... _my boss’s…boss’s…boss’s…face._

Victoria wondered if this was what it felt like to be in the centre of a flashover: everything hot, kindled, primed to ignition point, and then - 

“Luc- _Chief_!”  

 

*

“Victoria?”

It was weird to hear her first name. She was just so accustomed to being called ‘Vic’ or ‘Hughes’.

Victoria returned from, what she would describe later in her journal as a spontaneous combustion of the senses, and found herself pinned to the wall. Sensation returned to her neck first, and she moaned responsively, feeling his tongue and teeth scraping up the column of her neck to her ear.

She giggled, really liking how he did that.

“Victoria.” His hoarse whisper felt too loud. “I – can’t wait.”

She felt pins and needles on the soles of her feet before she felt the floor under them. She sighed and fidgeted under the pressure over her front, slipping her arms gingerly around his neck. He was propping her up against the wall with his body. She felt his hard-on grinding against her belly. He had an arm between the wall and her waist. The other hand stroked the curve of her hip.

When she twitched, he drew back. He looked winded, as though, he’d run up hundred floors of a tower in a firestorm.  His face was red and glistening, his chest puffed against hers, his beard was sticky…

Vic’s eyes widened – like saucer-wide.

(Like, they were both butt-ass naked up against each other. And his beard – the Chief’s beard - was covered…with _her_.)

Before she could gather her facial expressions into something more dignified. His brow furrowed and worry lines appeared on his forehead. “Hughes?” He asked.

When she didn’t respond, he shifted back, keeping a little space between them but not detaching entirely (because, yeah – the way she was trembling it was pretty obvious she would end up a human puddle if he let go). Inadvertently, her eyes drifted down to his–

 _Oh hello there, Chief Ripley, clearly you cannot wait._ “Uh…” She jerked her head up, meeting his eyes.

He was studying her face with a peculiar expression, still panting softly.

Only, it wasn’t peculiar. She just, wasn’t used to seeing that on his face. He was usually so calm, so sure. Uncertainty – was not a good look on him.

He also had a bit of grey in his beard, she realized– and that wasn’t too off-putting. Come to think of it, he had a lot of grey between the golden-brown of his head and it was kind of not off-putting at all. On the contrary, it was sexy.

“I - I can – should - leave.” He said, softly.

He also had about a thousand freckles. It’s not that she didn’t like his freckles. Okay, she liked them a lot, it’s just – they all merged together on his face so it didn't look like he had any freckles and kinda seemed too plenty to count, and _\- wait, what did he just say?_

“What?” She blurted alarmed, snapping her attention away from the freckle-counting, tightening her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “What? No! What? Why?”

The uncertainty on his face quickly changed to an affectionate smile. The corners of his eyes went really crinkly.

“I uh –” He sighed.

 _Those eyes could start a fire,_ she thought.

The tension on his face broke. A soft chuckle shook his shoulders. “Oh-ho-kay! Thank you –” He said, sniggering. “I think.”

“What? Oh!” She grimaced and drew back, leaning against the wall and grimaced awkwardly. “I uh – said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“I’ll be sure to add it to the standard list of incendiaries.” He teased.

She arched her head up to kiss his chin, up his jawline. She heard his dry swallow when she moved down his neck to the crook of his shoulder, all the way along the trap muscles. He groaned softly and arched his neck like he wanted to give her access. She ran her hands up the sides of his arms – feeling the odd bumps and burn-scars here and there. She felt a long, jagged callus on the back of his shoulder blade. It felt like it might have been a nasty injury. She wondered how he got it, she wondered if he’d mind if she bit that scar, just a little.

“Your entire body needs to be added to the standard list of incendiaries.” She murmured. 

He sounded like a frown. “What?” He half coughed, half-laughed.

 _“_ What?” She rolled back on her heels to look up at him innocently. “Mm? What? I didn’t say anything.”

He gave her a look – and the way he tilted his head at her was adorable. She didn’t bother hiding her giggles.  “Yeah.” She chuckled, looking at his whiteboy-blue eyes, running her hands over his pecs, sliding down his surf-board flat abdomen (like that’s a six-pack for sure – and it’s impressive he maintains himself like that) finding her way to his swollen cock. He closed his eyes when her fingers curled around his warm skin and tipped his forehead against hers.

“What was it you said?” She whispered, gently squeezing him, loving the soft little grunts he made.

“Oh, I uh…” He straightened his face. “I didn't carry a…” He trailed off, twitching his eyebrows a little suggestively. He cleared his throat and smirked a little shyly (it was really cute). “Yeah, I didn’t think. I’d need a – ” He started to say, but hesitated.

“Yeah, yeah. yeah. I get it.” She babbled. “You wouldn’t. Would you? I mean, you-you… _you_ didn’t really think this what you’d be doing at the end of shift. And you’re not really the sort to be doing it.”

His eyebrows shot up at angles. He bared his teeth, in an awkward grimace. 

_That did not come out right._

“And by it. I don’t mean _it_ -it. I meant, you wouldn’t pick up women.”

_Oh yeah, that did not come out right, either._

“I meant, every night. Because…” She winced. “You’re super busy. Not that you _can’t_ – uh – pick up girls…yeah.” She attempted, again. “I mean, you’re – really -” She huffed and widened her eyes with a big grin. “You’re – _Spice_. And you wouldn’t have any trouble being _spice_ – every day. If you wanted to.” She pursed her mouth and wiggled her eyebrows at him excitedly, hoping he’d appreciate the compliment.

Clearly, he did not. His eyebrows did that thing again – it was like he was amused, and uncomfortable at the same time. It was adorable – and made him look years younger.

(Really, whywhywhy was she still trying to talk?) “I meant to say that…” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes to gather herself. “I meant to say that I’m sure it’s not an everyday thing to get all sweaty-n-nekkid with one of your firefighters for you to be carrying a...” She trailed off.

His face paled and she was too up-close not to notice the tick in his jaw.

Victoria wanted to physically stuff her big fat foot in her big fat mouth.

 

(Yeah, it was a really, really, really bad idea to think about it. Who _he_ was, who _she_ was, what they were _doing_.

If they thought about it, it would not end well.

Like, Victoria could never be known for looking before she leaps, or thinking before she talks. Zero prudence, remember? Especially, around him.

But he – he wasn’t like her. He didn’t fire off his mouth or voice his opinions without considering the audience, or act on every impulse. He was not imprudent. Not in the least.

And, when she would later think about it, _this_ totally, most definitely seemed uncharacteristic to his proper, honorable, stickler-for-protocol, boy-scouty nature. It didn’t even seem like the type of thing he’d do, even if drunk.

And, he - she – _they,_  were so...never-drunk.)

 

She could envision the cogs turning in his brain as she watched the changing expressions on his face. The immensity and implication of – all of this - was hitting him and she was pretty damned sure he was going to regret it.

 

(She was going to regret it too.

A – she’d become a cliché. B- she was fucking with her career. C – she was fucking with his career too. D - it was never a good idea, sleeping with your boss. Okay, boss’s boss’s boss, whatever. And E – no one could know. She could not tell anyone. Ever. Not matter how badly she wanted to.

Which sucked, because she was terrible at keeping secrets.

And it’d be a cryin’ shame too. Because, if the way he had her come with his mouth was any indication – she _would_ want to talk about it. She’d _want_ to holler it to the whole damn world. She’d _want_ to journal all about it. She’d _want_ to be on the phone comparing sex-notes with Travis. She’d _want_ to do the I-got-laid-good swagger at every station from 19 to 88.)

 

Victoria felt his retreat before he actually moved. What had to have been a painfully hard boner began to soften in her palm, pulling her out of her thoughts.  His eyes averted away from her, his Adam’s apple bobbed furiously, his arms became all lax around her.

He was going pull away. 

(She ought to let him pull away.

She ought to let him do the right thing. She ought to let him pick up his uniform clothes strewn all over her apartment floor and get dressed. She ought to cover herself, remembering that this was her superior-most commanding officer. They ought to call it. Make a pact that they’re never going to speak of this, pretend it never happened.

But she couldn’t. Not yet.)

 

Unable to form any sensible words, Victoria hastily rose up on her toes and pressed her mouth on his. She sucked her breath in when that heady scent emanating from his face hit her – _her_ scent. She sighed with relief that he didn’t push away, or even stay motionless and unresponsive. He ran his palms up her sweaty back, along her sides, his thumb scraping at her sideboobs. He gripped the back of her head and pulled her in, humming into her mouth.

She kissed him sloppily – desperately. She tightened her grip over his cock and rubbed him till she could feel him seeping again. He gasped into her mouth, but didn’t stop kissing her. She released his erection, when she felt him dip a little. It felt like he was bending his knees, so, she arched her pelvis up. She moaned when he drew her impossibly close and slid the length of the shaft along her soaking wet folds. She felt a tremor run down his body when the head of his cock nudged her slit.

She let her palm slip down his spine, her fingers drumming along the ripped back muscles. And for what seemed to be the first time (and she couldn’t fathom why she waited that long) – she grabbed his ass. (Except, it was more muscle than ass and fuck, if she couldn’t wait to feel it when he fucked her.)

He tore away from her mouth and smacked kisses over her cheek to her neck. He found the spot under her ear, began the sweetest torment with his mouth, teeth and tongue. “Can’t wait.” He mumbled against her ears, his cock tormenting her by just – not getting inside.

“Why wait?” She murmured, arching her neck back, scrunching her eyes concentrating on the sensations he was evoking. Her eyes flew open when she remembered. “Oh. Yeah.” She straightened her neck grabbing his chin. He looked at her like he was in a trance. “Yeah. No, I do. Umm – yeah – over there.” She pointed towards her kitchen.

He blinked a couple of times, before realization dawned. He looked in the direction and back at her curiously. “There? Isn’t – that your kitchen?”

“Yep.”

He frowned at her and then did the rudest thing. He disentangled, stepping back. And she most definitely did not like – _not_ having being entangled with him.

He backed up, further in the direction of the kitchen, giving her a perfect view of his gloriously nude front and his not-small-at-all erection swaying. He braced his waist like some goddamn underwear model and looked at her like she was ridiculous.

(Which in all fairness to him – she was.) Her jaw might as well be hanging on the floor.

 _Damn_.

(Yeah, she didn’t really have much bandwidth in the before to really _admire_ him, but now that she did…he did not-disappoint-at-all, if you catch her drift. All skinnyThor -like. Maybe older, more scarred – but every bit as edibly sexy.)

 

“Victoria.”

“My friends call me Vic.” She replied automatically, checking him out. Up and down, down and up.

“Oh. Okay. _Vic._ ” He said, sounding a little exasperated. “You didn’t answer me.”

“Mmm, oh, you asked me somethin’?” She said.

“I asked you why you keep the condoms in the kitchen.”

She looked back at the wall of the foyer, where they’d –

Oh, they were already in the kitchen. 

He was holding her hand, like he’d led her there.

“Umm. Kitchen’s closer.” She shrugged.

He released her hand and braced his legs apart, holding his waist, looking at her expectantly.

When it appeared, like she wasn’t going to retract her words, “You’re kidding,” he said.

“Nope.”

He stared at her, incredulous. She smirked at him and reached for the cabinet where she kept the condoms and set them on the counter.

“A fireman – firewoman – is always prepared.” She offered, perkily.

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling, shaking his head, scrubbing his face, chuckling softly.  He looked at her with that amused, fond expression again and sighed.

He opened his mouth to say something but she leaned her elbows back on the counter, pushing her boobs out. “I thought you couldn’t wait.” She goaded, smiling her most effective come-hither smile.

His cock twitched and his face changed – the amusement merged into something darker, almost ravenous. His eyes drifted over naked frame, the lust deepening with every sweep. He stepped forward, still bracing his hips with hands – looking serious – and very Chief-like.

“You have a lot of sex in this kitchen?” He asked, sounding unimpressed – almost, jealous.

Interestingly, she didn’t. She never dated guys long enough to fuck in the kitchen. But, the sudden possessiveness in his eyes, made her want to push him. It was a side of him she wanted to thoroughly, thoroughly explore before this bubble burst and they were both forced to think about the consequences.

“I, maybe, wanna have a lot of sex with you, in this kitchen.” She answered, shrugging, looking at him innocently.

If it weren’t for the slight tremor she spotted in his hand when he reached for the condoms, she might have thought he was in complete control and unaffected by her words. Victoria licked her lips in anticipation.

 

 ----tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My take on that amazing scene from 2x07.  
> It's not right, how many times I've rewatched that.  
> This was quickly beta'd.

_Dirty. Yeah. Uh huh._

Not that anyone’s asking (and thank goodness – no one is), for the record – Victoria’s her own woman. She’s got it, she owns it and she ain’t apologizin’ for it.

She ain’t gonna bend over and take nothin’ quietly. No sir. She’ll be the give it back as good as she gets.

Just ask the guy who has her bent over.

 

It’s really ironic that she didn’t even think she’d get to kiss him like maybe ten minutes ago.

She may have, pretty much, _ordered_ his ass to lock the door. But, that flicker of doubtfulness did make its way in her mind when he drifted to the door with that unreadable expression. If anything, being a firefighter has taught her, it’s that impulses, decisions, thoughts, even afterthoughts - they can all switch in a few seconds of consideration. He paused at the door for what seemed like a very long amount of time, it may not have been that long, but horny anticipation was thinking on her behalf. So even if the temper of his kiss was hungry and certain, her initial emotion was undeniably relief.

 

It took one scrape of Victoria’s fingernails over his lower belly to have him bodying her against the cage-grill walls of someone else’s locker. Her attempt at pushing up his undershirt was laid vain. He stopped playing with her nipples and yanked his hand out from under her t-shirt, only to drag it over her head. He tossed it in the mysterious direction that her uniform shirt had flown and then pressed his mouth on hers, licking her mouth in a way that made her grunt/moan helplessly. He skated his hands along her sides to push at her open pants, her underwear rolling along under the heels of his palms.

Her mouth felt bruised and swollen when he tore away, smacking quick kisses down her chin and throat to the plum tops of her breasts, hooking a finger into a bra cup, nudging it down to scoop out a boob and take the nipple into his mouth – and do that thing that he always did to make her mouth and vagina water simultaneously.

The way his breath puffed against her skin was the only indication of how aroused he was – because he was, as always, _so_ quiet.

Victoria never imagined it would be such a thing for her, how soft and intense he is at the same time.

She shimmied. Hips, thighs, legs – until her uniform pants were pooled at her boots (her soot and dirt laden boots). She detached her hands from his shoulders to brush her thumbs over the waistband of her damp underwear that caught around the widest parts of her thighs, letting it slip down. He hugged her close, still sucking at her tits, hands working her bare ass.

He was big on them both – her tits and her ass. As with everything he did he was superbly gentlemanly about it – until he was not. Victoria particularly loved it when he was not.  

This wasn’t like that off-shift of unspeakable pleasures (because what else could one call that unforgettable mindblowing sexathon had her ladybits tingling in unholy ways?) where they both had the luxury to explore and delay gratification. They were on stolen time. They were being - inappropriate and wrong - in the inappropriate-est and wrongest space. 

She widened her thighs in eager anticipation. It would be quicker for him to get his magical mouth on (not an understatement. That boy – man - knew how to use that mouth - _everywhere._ ) But, Ripley had other ideas. He clapped her waist with that chain-saw wielding grip (that she very much enjoys, do not get her wrong) and spun her around without preamble.

She was greeted by the sight of a neatly hung turnout jacket that said ‘ _King’_ through the epoxy-coated cage-grill of the locker. (Thank goodness, he’s on B-shift. She’s never going to be able to look at that guy’s jacket again without blushing.) Her jaw knocked against the grate. Victoria barely caught her breath before Ripley’s hand skated over her front, slipping down between her thighs, sandwiching her back to his front. Her sore nipples chafed between the cubed spaces.He glided his swollen, warm cock, up and down between her ass-cheeks, rubbing the undersurface of his erection along her tailbone. A hiss escaped when his long fingers found her clit. She had to bite down on her lower lip to restrain the moan when he stroked her.

“Fuck!” His voice sounded really far away but she also felt his teeth against her ear at the same time.  Her pussy clenched. And, it was not just because he was dipping his fingers close to her centre.

(It’s always so weird to hear him cuss. He’s always so damned - mannerly. Victoria is certain that Ripley cussing is on her list of sexy-triggers. She’s only ever heard him use profanity when he’s – doing _this…_ and this- _related_ stuff.)

“Victoria.”

(Also, the intimate, husky way he says her name – that’s on the list too. She wishes she could journal about this.)

“You’re so wet.” He sounded amazed. The tone of his voice was just – plain – filthy.

If that dizzying wave didn’t hit her lower body from his voice alone, Victoria might have announced that she had been wet from before he started splitting her uniform shirt open.

A stupid thought train ran took off - about the chainsaw, about how his fingers are definitely not-clean because he was, literally, shedding his turnouts when she made her play. Heck, there was still soot and tree-dust stuck over their faces that had exchanged address when they made out.  _Hygiene is a tall order given the circumstances,_ she thought. Anyway, Victoria – simply gave zero fucks. She knew she would regret not caring – later. She’d probably regret a lot of things later. She didn’t want to think about them. She imagined the thought-train hurled itself over a broken bridge into nothingness.

Victoria’s lungs felt stuck and her eyes gaped. Like, he wasn’t even trying that hard. He was just grinding himself against her ass and dribbling his fingers between her thighs in sync, in a slow, kinda lazy way – like he was trying to prolong the pleasure for her.

A giver - yeah, okay - until he takes – and she knows he’s going to take.

(He _was_ a giver. When he kissed, at foreplay, even when he made love. He was attentive and considerate, read her cues, was attuned to her signals, let her set the pace for everything; gentle when she needed it, intense when she wanted it.

But, there always came that point. _Always._   He ambushed her with those gorgeous baby blues, his gaze bizarrely searing through, as though he was prying her apart to reach in and _take._  

A bonafide eye-fucker. He was.

She was unwittingly, though blissfully, consumed.

Yeah, no. She isn’t complaining about it. At all. She cannot wait.)

 

Victoria bucked back at him in retaliation, whined in a mix of discomfort and delight, knowing she was close to the brink but she did not want to come, not just yet.

If her brain were functioning, she would admire how well he picked her wordless message. He kissed the back of her neck and shoulders while gentling his wrist to a halt before pulling his hand off. He drew his hips back until she could only feel the seeping tip of his hard-on tapping lightly over at the back of her thighs.

She licked her chapped lips, thinking to turn around and drop to her knees. This was one of those rare times that she sincerely wanted a man’s dick in her mouth. It had everything to do with the fact that it was specifically _this_ man’s impressive dick. He had neither asked, nor 'hinted' in the way guys typically did – that night. She wasn’t keen on it, because it would have been weird for her then. (Him being the Chief - boss's boss's boss and all - still playing on her mind). It made her like him – a lot. It made her want to do this, now – for sure.

But, Ripley already stuck a boot between her feet and was widening her stance like he was the drill sergeant at the academy, teaching her the proper way to stand at-ease. He steadied her hip, stopping her from twisting around. Victoria was too out of it to process what he was doing until she hears felt him lining up between her thigh, the blunt tip pressing urgently at her centre.

Victoria sighed, her arousal steadily ascending. She splayed her legs as far apart as her panties would stretch around her ankles. She arched her back, reaching down with a hand to widen herself for him, finding herself wet and slippery. She grabbed the slender interlocking bars of the locker with the other hand, bracing herself to receive him from behind.

She felt his movements, he grabbed the base of his cock and probing the head between her folds. His belt clinked around his boots as he moved closer. She caught his throbbing cock and guided him. The soft guttural sound he made as he pushed in compensated for the silent drop of her jaw.

This would be a first for her. She only let a guy do her bare once. (She was nineteen and stupid and he was a jerk. She’s never let a guy come near her without a condom after that – ever, no matter how nice he seemed.) 

But, this wasn’t just any guy. And _this,_ was not a scenario for that conversation. He was not some seasoned fuckboy who casually walked around with a condom stashed in his uniform in the off chance of having a random hook-up, during shift hours in _one_ of Seattle’s many fire stations. At least, she hoped he wasn’t like that. (She would have heard if he was. Gossip spreads faster among firefighters than wildfire.) Besides, Victoria’s covered from her end. And, she trusted him without thinking about the ‘whys’ of it.  

It felt different. Him, unsheathed like that inside her. It was wetter, more – squelchy. Definitely not uncomfortable, like the one previous encounter when she was drier than sawdust and her boyfriend was an insensitive dickhead.

It was new, and familiar at the same time. He filled her out nice and proper. The stretch from his girth felt raw, every pulse of his swollen length radiated a heat that her body willingly lapped up from on the inside.

“Fuck! Vic!” He panted. The sound of his breathing was louder, more jagged. “You feel so good, baby.”

Ripley - calling her ‘Baby’.

Hot. Fucking. Damn. It was too much.

Something gave way, but she couldn’t be sure what exactly. It felt like the floor was caving. She gripped the locker tightly and bit hard inside of her mouth to curb the amplitude of her groan.

(Because as sex-delirious as she was, she did not forget that there were _people_ outside. _People_ , firefighters…with ears. Men and women who were in the professional business of listening for cries for help even against the roaring crackle of fire. Firefighters, who might overhear her screams, and efficiently break down a locked door with one of the many axes available anywhere and everywhere in the station.

And they would find them like that. Rutting, doggy style - clearly in _no_ need of saving. 

Ripley was still wearing his uniform shirt for cryin’ out loud!

Besides, she was going to be really pissed at the interruption.)

“Vic,” His voice filtered through the haze. “Did you just come?” He sounded surprised.

Her cunt was throbbing somethin’ fierce and she couldn’t feel her toes, so yeah, she figured she did come. Each spasm from her inside drew him involuntarily deeper.

“Shit, you did, didn’t ya?” He muttered and drew out mid-way, his breathing unsteady.

The quick orgasm was a bit of a relief. Everything had been bubbling, ready to tip to a point where she wasn’t able to process. She wanted to process everything. Sex with him was just that good.

Victoria sighed and leaned her head back – finding his shoulder available for support. She tilted her head and saw that he was watching her intently – looking a little frustrated.

“Now don’t go beatin’ yourself up.” She croaked. “You know very well I can come again.”

His irises disappeared behind those blown pupils when she spoke, and his mouth curled upwards slowly till his teeth appeared and he was flashing her a shit-eating grin that she has never seen at work. She knew his mind was throwing back to that night.

(He did know.)

Orgasms are clearly never going to be a problem for them. She had a double orgasm first when he fucked her hard and fast on the kitchen counter. Another double, when he made slow, lazy, satisfying love to her in on her bed. She didn't even bother counting the number of times he made her climax with his hands and mouth. The initial reactions he had, as she recalled, were of surprise. Soon enough they changed to smug, self-satisfied smiles – like he had accomplished something. It was hilarious and sexy – but mainly hilarious.

 

So here they are.

Victoria moans when he thrusts back in. She feels it all the way, from the top of her vagina to the base of her skull. Her head and body fall forward. He loops an arm around her waist, hugging her to him, wedging space between her and the locker. She finds more room to bounce her hips back, meeting him actively. He slows himself. She leans back to look at him.  “You okay?” He asks, with that small sweet smile - the one that’s always lingering on his face when he talks to her. She doesn’t want to dwell on what that means.  

“Yeah.” She smiles, patting his forearm reassuringly.

He runs a palm up and down her sweaty front. For some reason he straightens out the cups of her bra, then skims his hand over her chest and belly. It takes her a few seconds to realize he’s smoothing out the grill impressions. She takes advantage of his thoughtfulness to squirm herself into a comfortable position.  His eyes bulge and his mouth flinches – but he keeps his long body tense and rigid.

“You sure?” He asks, tersely, yet it’s so unbearably kind and earnest.

His restraint amazes her. She feels each rapid thump of his cock, swollen and snug inside her. That vein on his forehead bounds furiously like it’s going to pop. He clenches his jaw, like he’s afraid to move even the slightest.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” She bites out, more breath than voice. “Now, stop being so… _nice,_ and show me that you meant it when you said you should get your hands dirty.”

Ripley looks confused. It’s really cute.

“What?” She goads – and really, it’s amazing she has any energy to talk at all. As though she actually had the headspace to mess around, as though she didn’t have his naked not-small-at-all cock throbbing unapologetically inside her.

“C’mon, you really thought I wouldn’t catch that veiled comment you threw?” She huffs. “Back there in the engine...with Maya?”  

It clicks. His expressions are downright wicked. The corners of his mouth curl, his eyes get a wicked glint and his smile – gets roguish. She figures having a massive boner stuck inside her would weed the boy-scoutyness out of him. And that look - is ten different levels of hot-as-fuck spice.

“Professionalism, my ass. Riding in the trenches, my ass.” She scoffs, her chatter distracting from him pulling himself out slowly. "Poor Maya! She was trying so– Oh! _Fuuuuuck!_ ”

He just rammed in, deep, almost punitively, killing her wisecrack in her throat. Victoria’s eyes roll back. The cage clatters noisily with her.

_Woah!_

“You really wanna talk about Bishop, right now?” He mutters. Man, he sounded all riled up. Fuck, she wants more of him riled up. He pulls out and thrusts in again harder. She hums – loud.  

“Dirty, uh?” He growls. He does it again. “Like that?”

“Like that.” She wheezes, reaching her arms out to the grill, dropping her neck down and shimming her ass to adjust their joined bodies so the angle is easier on them both. He releases her waist to bracket her hips with both hands. He pulls back and sets a rhythm, thrusting into her hard but slow.

“Oh fuck, yes!” She blurts when she feels his length rubbing against – _there_. Sparks start firing up in her vision. She tries to squeeze her thighs to tighten around him and direct him. “Yesyesyes, give it to me!” She mumbles.

He barks out a soft laugh or maybe it’s a gasp. He doesn’t say anything – he’s not a talker anyway. She figures he’s used up his entire dirty-vocabulary by now.

Ripley, basically, gives it to her – and yes, she gives it back. He moves at the same deliciously slow pace, making her to moan repeatedly and wobble. She flattens her elbow against the locker for support, twerks her ass till he’s compelled to change pace to match _her_ tempo. And her tempo is definitely upwards of fast. When she’s satisfied with how fast, she closes her eyes and soaks it all up. The soft grunts he makes, the sounds of his shaft sliding in and out, the sound of his skin slapping against hers, the locker rattling like it’s the background score to the sensory phenomena zipping through her.

God, he feels so warm and powerful inside her. He bends forward, tightening the arm around her waist. Victoria’s sure that whine that ripped when the angle changes came from her and it was loud enough to hear all the way to their garage.

He tugs at her till she’s hauled upright and her back is lined up against his chest. She meets his actions, rising up and down on the balls of her forefeet, with her body riding higher on him rather than back and forth. She can feel the base of his cock under the weight of his ass.

“How ‘bout this?” He pants out between thrusts, his arm riding up till his forearm rests over the underwire of her bra. He cups a breast and squeezes.

 _Shit_ , it hurts – good.

“Mmm-y-y-yeah.” She manages, concentrating on the chaotic static charge inside her that’s swirling into a typhoon.

If the intensity of his movements were not driving her up, she would have time to express her regret at not being able to see his face. She imagined the intense, focused expression from the memory of when he took her against the kitchen counter – and the rhythmic clench of his pure-power glutes under her palm when he pounded into her.

“Fuck me harder, Lucas.” She begs, throwing her arm back, cupping the back of his neck. It’s a legitimate plea, she isn’t playing around or trying to goad him.

She loves how vigorous he is. It's just this side of selfish - and it’s overwhelming her. She loves how vigorous she can be with him. And, god, it feels so, _so_ good, she wants it all.

He hauls her up a little higher, releasing her ass – grabbing the locker for hold and slipping his other hand down between the apex of her thighs. She unclutches her hold on the locker and hooks her elbow around his muscly forearm for support – her fingers sliding over tight-smooth skin of burn marks on his wrists - loving, just _loving_ that they’re using only his strength to keep this up. He traps her clit between his index and ring finger and deftly teases her. Victoria can’t dial back the groan. He turns his head to nibble at the angle of her jaw, rubbing his beard up and down the strained edge of her neck. His hair still smells of smoke and tree. (Her hair probably still smells of smoke and tree).

“C’mon, sweetheart.” He husks in her ear. “You wanna come, don’t you?”

_Sweetheart?_

Oh. He does not play fair.

(He’d said that only once that night – the first time when they fucked in the kitchen. He was so unravelled – he was shaking. It didn’t register then, and even if he’s old school on his terms of endearment…) Damn, if it didn’t make her feel special!

It takes every bit of her resolve to stop from spiraling. “Lucas!” She gasps. “I'm gonna -! I wanna see - your - face.” She pleads, mindlessly, twisting her fingers into the hairs at base of his skull.

He doesn’t say anything, instead he pulls out hastily. She topples forward. She squeaks when she feels his teeth on her ass, biting softly, followed by a light spank exactly at that spot. He twists her around to face him, puppetting her. Arms are tugged around his shoulders, boobs are squished against his undershirt, bum is resting in his palm. He slides another hand down the curve of her spine to grab her ass. She hops up and almost trips.

Yeah, pants, belt, panties -  all a twisted mess, trapped around her ankles.

He pushes forward, semi-carrying her, resting her back against the locker, half drawing her knee up. She sobs when she feels the cold grill of the cage and fidgets. 

“Hang on, hang on, don’t move, I got ya.” He mumbles frantically, fumbling with one hand to help her out of her impromptu shackles.  

Victoria just watches the top of his head, feeling a heady rush of affection and -

Oh. Damn. _DamnDamnDamn._

She mutely follows when he hitches her up, unconcerned that her work boots are still on. He looks up at her only after he pulls her legs to wrap around his thighs and bounces her twice to make sure she’s comfortable.

Sweet man, he is.

Her expression must confuse him, because concern flashes on his face.

Victoria _should_ be worried. About _it_. This thing that’s blooming inside her heart. But she smiles instead – wide.

He returns her smile with an awed, slightly relieved grin. “You’re beautiful.” He says, his voice hoarse, but the affection still singing through. He purses his mouth like an afterthought, as though he hadn’t planned to say that.

That warms her enough to not feel the cold cage on her bum any more. Victoria blushes, feeling fuzzy and giggly. She grins wider and tips her head, adjusting herself so he can slide in again. He’s so hard that he doesn’t even need to hold himself, and they’re both so slick, he bottoms out almost instantly. They flinch together – their smiles simultaneously disappearing with a gasp.

He’s at the eye-fucking stage, she realizes. They take a second to get adjusted – but he doesn’t break eye contact. He leans forward, pecking her lips and then thrusting into her slowly – his eyes locked with hers. She sighs and leans her head back and starts jerking her hips to his rhythm – holding his gaze.

She knows that – though he’s never really said it – he likes it this way.

His thrusts get more uncoordinated and edgy. He's tall, but so is she and he’s just the right height for to be angled so perfectly that she won’t even need to mess with her clit. She strokes his hair and keeps leaning forward to kiss his temple, whimpering softly because she can feel it building real quick. He must feel it too, the way her cunt clenches. 

Victoria notices that he slants his mouth over hers, while looking at her through his lashes. It is no more than a light touch of lips. She squeezes her eyelids and her lips part – more and more and more, a scream building in her chest. The pressure of his mouth over hers increases – more and more and more.

His sharp exhale hits the back of her throat, he tips his head forward clamping it down to catch her ecstatic cry, muffling the sound.

It’s the hottest thing, how he anticipated her release – and they’ve set the bar pretty high as far as hottest things are concerned.

Victoria leans forward, tipping her forehead against his, slumping around him all boneless. The furious throb of her cunt draws out his climax in seconds. He drives deep, dropping his head into her shoulder, nipping painlessly at her collar bone, spilling into her after three, long, powerful thrusts that has the locker behind and the one behind it clattering loudly.

His muted, almost noiseless, gaspy groaning buzzes in her ear as her body settles like carbon dioxide foam over a raging fire.

 

Maybe this started out of the allure of getting it on in this forbidden space with whole goddamned station outside. Maybe it was the aftershocks of adrenaline-highs from the fire-outing, lives-saving and the chain-sawing. Maybe it was the storm getting them all worked up, or maybe it was just plain'n'simple pent-up lust.

Whatever the fuel, whatever the heat, whatever the catalyst, this – this really feels like it’s turned into full blown blaze.

And Victoria is not sure if she can walk it back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would be honored if you left a review.  
> Happy thanksgiving!

**Author's Note:**

> reviews = kindness. it's been 2 years since I've written anything.


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